


Made To Break

by merr



Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closeted Character, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Rough Sex, Songfic, Zedd - Stay The Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merr/pseuds/merr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-gyZ35074k">Zedd (feat. Hayley Williams) - "Stay The Night"</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made To Break

Shawn gasped into Carlton's mouth as his lower back lit up with pain, cringing a bit as he heard the bowl behind him holding peanuts and a handgun clatter to the kitchen floor on the other side of the island. He braced one palm on the edge of the granite counter top, other hand planting itself on the the back of the detective's skull, pulling him in harder.

The older man growled, dipping his head down to bite at Shawn's neck, hissing, "What the _hell_ are you doing here, Spencer?"

"Oh, you know, just... hangin' out," Shawn gasped and found Carlton's pulse with his own mouth, sucking hard. He was sure there'd be a mark anyway by the time rough hands found his hair and yanked him back.

"Goddamnit!" Carlton's hand was at his own throat, wiping away Shawn's spit as he glared, "If there's a bruise, I swear I'll --"

"Have to spank me? Oh yes, please, Head Detective Lassiter..." As he spoke, Shawn moved away from the island, slipping past the livid man to lean against the back of the black leather couch: "I've been a bad, bad -- hey!"

Carlton came at him fast, grappling, pushing him down over the back of the couch, " _Don't_ say it, Spencer!"

Shawn twisted and rolled until he ended up on his knees, leather squeaking under his elbows as he leaned up to grab salt-and-pepper hair and tugged the other man's mouth down to his. Carlton growled, breaking the kiss and whipping his suit jacket off as he stalked around the edge of the couch. Shawn grinned, laying back and folding his hands behind his head.

He nodded to the open bay windows, overlooking the city, and smarmed, "What a view... especially for your neighbors across the street. Gonna show us all what you're made of, Detective?"

Lassiter's lip curled in irritation as he placed his shoulder holster on the coffee table then snapped the vertical blinds shut, "Don't you ever shut the fuck up, Spencer?"

"I thought you had a better memory than _that_ , Lassafrass. You ask me that _every_ time we end up hot 'n' bothered together... usually not until the _naked, sweaty_ bits, but still --"

Carlton was all over him, hand over his mouth, one knee wedged between the younger man's hip and the back of the couch, "Stop! _Stop_ talking." The older man let go of Shawn's face, hands grinding down, pulling the hem of a green t-shirt way up, then setting both his hands to work on Shawn's jeans.

Shawn hummed, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off and leaning back onto the arm of the couch to watch Lassiter. Carlton didn't look up until he stood up, pulling Shawn's jeans off ( _Commando, as always; oversexed little bastard..._ ) and pulling his tie off before rolling his own sleeves up in a few quick practiced flicks. Shawn licked his lips when their eyes met, already-weeping erection twitching against his stomach. He grinned as he brushed a hand down his body, lightly petting his fingertips over the length of his prick, "Still like whatcha see, Lassie?"

Carlton made a face, settling over Shawn and leaning down, hands gripping the younger man's hips. He answered by swiping his tongue from base to tip, then took Shawn in one hand so he could focus on the head, savoring the flavor of Shawn's slit. The younger man groaned, instinctively moving his hands down to pet Lassie's hair, encourage him, but he winced as Carlton gripped him too hard, just for a second, reminding him.

"But rules are made to brok-nuh-ow!" Another squeeze, the barest brush of teeth. "Al _right,_ got it, no touchy-touchy the hai-ah!"

Lassiter ignored the comment, realigning his attention to the task on ( _In?_ ) hand. _...Damn, he's getting under my skin..._ Lassiter bobbed his head, eyes slipping shut at the crackles of desire blossoming across his body from the origin point at the back of his throat where the head of Shawn's prick kept hitting home.

"Jesus. _Christ!_ Las-Sie..." When Lassiter glanced up, blue eyes piercing right into Shawn's, the younger man groaned, loud, before his head arched back and he knotted his shaking hands in his own hair, tugging, "You're gonna -- uhhh..."

It'd been weeks since their last... fight... and even though Shawn tried to brag and flaunt girls around him almost constantly, Carlton knew by how live a wire Shawn was at the moment that the other man hadn't managed to talk anyone into bed with him since. The detective pulled off, dragged his top lip through his teeth, growling, "I'm gonna make you come so hard you forget how to run your mouth, Spencer." Not giving Shawn a chance to bitch back, Carlton swallowed him, one hand holding his hip down, the other fondling down, pressing against his perineum, brushing over his ass.

Shawn, almost squirming out of his skin _before_ Lassie decided to kill him with oral sex, tried to pull away, panting, "Stop -- Lass, stop -- I'ma -- ah --"

 _Yes, you are._ Carlton thought, the growl in his throat like a shock of electricity up Shawn's body. He argued, hands pushing at the detective's shoulders, swearing, begging -- but Carlton just planted both his palms on Shawn's hips, pinning him with all his strength to deep-throat Shawn in earnest.

The younger man came with a shout, the first spasm almost painful in intensity. _Lassie, why live in the closet with a mouth like that? Fuuuuck..._

It took a few moments, but the stars finally cleared from Shawn's eyes and he took his hands off his face. _Don't remember ever having to hold my eyeballs in before, damn..._ He grinned at Lassiter as the detective sat back, tongue swiping out the tiniest bit to catch the spillover at the corner of his mouth.

"You know, the pleased-Cheshire look is good on you, Lassikins."

Carlton's eyes narrowed and he stood up, confident smirk redoubling on his face as he grabbed Shawn's upper arm and hauled him to his feet. The way Shawn stumbled as he marched him into the bedroom made his prick twitch in his workpants and Lassiter unceremoniously dumped the brunet on the bed, undressing without flourish.

Shawn hummed as he watched Carlton unbutton his shirt rapidly, floating in a pleasant, lazy haze until the sound of the detective's belt being undone spurred him into motion. He rolled up onto his knees, grabbing the lube out of Lassie's bedside drawer. He squeezed some out into a hand, snapped it shut and dropped it on the floor before leaning forward on his shoulders, face turned into the Carlton-scented pillow. _Two can play at this game..._

He heard Lassie's breath huff out as he slipped the first finger into himself. A slight burn as he added a second warned him he was going to too fast, but he bit his lip, the harmony of hurt and afterglow bringing even more of a flush to his face.

He felt the bed dip when Lassiter kneeled behind him; felt callused hands grip his cheeks, squeeze, pull aside for a better view. Shawn got a third finger in, chest heaving a bit as he huffed into the pillow, and that was all Carlton could take: it took him all of five seconds to snatch the lube off the floor, slick himself and slap Shawn's hands side.

Shawn reached back to grip the other man's thighs as he pressed against him, and when the head slipped past the first ring of muscle, Shawn groaned, rolled his hips back a little, using Lassie's first name for the first time in a long time: "Uhn, Carlton, please... come _on,_ give --"

If his face weren't crushed into the mattress, Shawn _might_ have complained about Lassie's lube-sticky hand pushing down his back, across the back of his neck, knotting into his hair... Maybe. What he _did_ do was shout into the cloth and cushion, back muscles tensing for a moment as Lassiter drove home, just fast enough to bump up against the line of real hurt. Carlton bottomed out, held there for a second, then pulled back, tightening the hand in the other man's hair to keep him put.

Shawn wailed into the mattress as Carlton worked his way up to the most forceful pace he'd ever remembered them reaching. When Lassie let go of his hair to clamp both hands on either of Shawn's hips, he snaked his own hand under his body, brushing the back of his knuckles against his half-hard prick before palming it. As it slowly refilled with blood, it became more and more sensitive until Shawn could barely stand it; he knew he couldn't come, didn't want to. Just wanted to take some of the growing painful edge off the punishment Carlton was dishing out.

The older man spotted the movement in Shawn's shoulder and pulled out, nostrils flaring a bit at the resulting cry from Shawn; he wiped a hand roughly over his own eyes and flipped Shawn over, brows drawn, expression livid as he ordered: "No. Knock it off."

Shawn's face was flushed, eyes wet and hair slicked to his temples with sweat, "But --" He looked almost helpless, disbelieving -- Carlton had never said he couldn't touch _himself_ before... He swallowed hard, trying to find a more coherent complaint, but then Lassie was gripping his hips, hauling him onto his lap. His spine arched to the point of shaking when the older man pushed home again, picking up the rhythm where he left off, the only differences being that he could watch Shawn's face -- and replace the younger man's hand with his own.

Shawn reached back, hands wild, trying to brace on the headboard behind him as he gasped, cutting his own gasp off with a low, strained groan. He was fully hard, again, too soon and it was overwhelming. He managed to peer up at Carlton for a moment, noting the strength of his abdomen, seeing the muscles in his shoulder and upper arm shift as he kept both his hips and hand in rhythm... Shawn came with a broken shout, a hand fluttering compulsively down his body to his groin, pushing Carlton's away, ears rushing.

The whole time, Lassie kept pounding the younger man, his conscience having been throttled into submission when he held Shawn down on the couch and forced him to finish. He watched Shawn's face intently as he forced him to come a second time, his own orgasm triggered not by Shawn's body clenching around him, not by the clearly helpless noises the younger man was making, but by the momentary brush of their hands.

The next coherent thought Carlton registered was the sound of he and Shawn's panting, the sensation of warm air fluttering past his ear. He acknowledged how good it felt, his body pressed this close to Shawn, the few moments after intense sex leaving them both so bruised and drained that they could momentarily forget the firefights that always ended up throwing them into each other's arms. Then Shawn's body shifted and Carlton felt a hand against the back of his head, careful fingers skating over the hair there, down onto his neck, back up again... it triggered him, and he shoved up off Shawn, the sudden rushing in his hears drowning out the younger man's gasp as he pulled out too fast. Carlton didn't touch ground again until the bathroom door slammed behind him.

Shawn let the hand drop to his chest, curling it into a fist. _I should know better by now, I know I should..._ He swiped his other hand over his eyes before dropping it to the pillow beside him, taking a deep breath and letting it out to calm himself. He knew, from the beginning, from the first time and every time afterwards, that this was all they could have. He'd hoped for more, and yeah, he'd cried into his helmet on the way home the first time. And the second, definitely the third... but he was tired of the shouting matches, of the terrified look in Carlton's eyes as he said supremely hateful shit to him about never getting the wrong idea; that it wasn't a relationship, that it never meant anything but fucking. _He can lie so well in the interrogation room, but can't manage it in his own bedroom. Funny._

Shawn sat up slowly, hearing the sink stop running ( _Which means Lassie will pop outta there in... wait for it... three, two, one--_ Carlton didn't spare him a glance as he grabbed a pair of running shorts, slipped them on and left the bedroom, muttering about not leaving a weapon laying in the middle of his kitchenette floor. Shawn was determined to have whatever Lassie allowed them to have, aches and pains be damned.

He swore as he made it to his feet, biting the inside of his mouth at the soreness in his hips and everything else south of the border as he walked into the recently-vacated bathroom. He cleaned himself up as carefully as possible, splashed water on his face and pushed his hands back through his hair. He didn't make the mistake of looking in the mirror -- threeish weeks ago, he'd been stuck in Lassie's bathroom for fifteen straight minutes crying after he committed that little oopsy-daisy.

As he walked into the living room, goosebumps rose over his naked body and he heard Lassiter behind the island, gathering peanuts up and dropping them back into the bowl. Shawn picked his shirt up off the floor, turning it rightside out and slipping it on. _It's not like it'd kill him to look at me straight before I leave, even just once in a while._ He would've laughed at the word 'straight' in his head at a time like this, but he was a bit too worried about riding his cycle home feeling like he did.

The younger man leaned over to snag his jeans, a _very manly, thank you_ whimper bubbling out of his mouth. He straightened back up, his ears rushing just a little too much for him to notice Lassiter pause his peanut task. _...Sweet Justice, how badly did I hurt him? What the hell was I thinking?_

Dropping the last of the peanuts into the bowl and getting to his feet, Carlton noticed Shawn pulling on one leg of his jeans, lightly-stubbled jaw clenching. The younger man felt the gaze and flicked his eyes over, hazel more than slightly clouded. Lassiter felt his chest ache for a moment, but when Shawn turned away first, he opened the trash to dump the bowl out, cringing.

He set the empty dishware on the counter, trying to figure out what to do but was interrupted by a scuffle and curse from Shawn. When he snapped his head around, the younger man was leaning one hip on the side of the couch, neck and face flushed, eyes averted and muttering angrily to himself. In that second, Carlton made the hardest decision of his life -- a decision that was even harder than following through on the speech he gave to his ex-wife just before she walked out of that restaurant and his reach.

Shawn looked up as Carlton walked over, eyes dropping from the serious expression down to the steadying hand settling into place on his upper arm. He blinked a couple times, throat clicking as he swallowed down the compulsive question, then went back to pulling his jeans up, attempting to chirp: "Thanks for giving me a hand, buddy; by our powers combined, I'll be outta here in no time flat."

As he brought the denim up over his knees, he tried to breathe normally. In the silence, he tugged his jeans up further, had them halfway up his slightly shaking thighs when Carlton grabbed his wrist, the circle of his fingers firm but not controlling. Shawn glanced up, stubborn hope he knew he'd regret later bounding up from his heart to pass his throat and lips, wasting no time setting up a beacon behind his eyes. Lassiter's face was set, eyes intense and uncompromising; Shawn, against all odds, patterns and bets, waited. The younger man was already fighting a smile, half a perceptive step ahead of ( _\-- this stubborn, damaged, gorgeous, utterly unparalleled guy named--_ ) Carlton when the older man spoke: "Shawn, I -- that is, I want you to..." 

He interrupted himself, one hand pushing through salt-and-pepper hair to rest on the back of his neck, both hands tightening their grip just a bit as he met Shawn's eyes and managed to breathe: "...Stay."


End file.
